


The Haunting of 221B

by Small_Hobbit



Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-02
Updated: 2016-10-02
Packaged: 2018-08-19 04:53:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8190818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Small_Hobbit/pseuds/Small_Hobbit
Summary: Dr Watson is unsettled, but is there reason for it?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for LJ's Holmes Minor "Spirit" prompt.
> 
> So let the reader beware!

I was never entirely sure what brought it on; maybe it was the vestiges of a fever, maybe it was the result of one of Holmes’ experiments.  Whatever the cause when I came down to breakfast that fateful morning I was convinced I could see a spirit sitting at the table in Holmes’ usual place.  At first I thought it had to be Holmes and that the slightly ethereal nature was a trick of the light.  But then I heard his voice as he spoke to Mrs Hudson who he had met on the stairs, and I realised it could not be him.  Then, as Holmes opened the door to our rooms, the spirit vanished.  I made no mention of it to him, but a slight sense of unease remained with me for the rest of the day.  
  
I had almost forgotten the event, when a few days later Mrs Hudson asked me if I might have something she could use to calm her nerves.  I enquired whether anything had particularly upset her, and she told me she thought she had seen Holmes in his armchair smoking his pipe, ten minutes after he and I had gone out to the theatre.  I gave her a potion which would help her to sleep, but it left me unnerved, for Holmes and I had remained together all evening, and whilst a week ago I would have ruled this out as a woman’s fancy it was too similar to my own experience to ignore.  
  
During the following week I saw the spirit twice more, both times seated at the breakfast table.  I made no mention of this to Mrs Hudson, but I noticed when she came into our rooms she would often stare at the armchair as if she had seen the apparition again.  
  
And then one afternoon, Mrs Hudson and I walked up to the rooms together.  I opened the door and Holmes stood to greet us.  Only it could not have been Holmes, for I had left him deep in conversation with Inspector Lestrade, at Victoria Station.  Mrs Hudson turned to me, and I could see in her face the horror which I felt must be reflected in my own.  We did not have time to speak, for at that moment we heard furious knocking at the front door, and as soon as it was opened, the sound of footsteps running up the stairs.  
  
“Dr Watson, Mrs Hudson,” Lestrade panted, “I’m so sorry.  There has been a dreadful accident.  If you hurry you may yet be in time …”  
  
Lestrade stopped talking as he looked into the rooms.  The spirit moved an arm as if to invite him in.  I believe Lestrade would have fainted if I had not put my arm round him and guided him to my chair.  
  
“Then I am too late,” he said.


End file.
